


Choice

by archi, Arisprite



Series: By Grace, We Are Saved [31]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Castiel, Gen, M/M, Pancakes, season 8 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:36:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archi/pseuds/archi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisprite/pseuds/Arisprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel heard the words, and felt a shaking begin in his stomach. He pushed his fingers hard into the scrapes on his knuckles, absently, the pain grounding him. He didn't know what to say, fear and nerves and just so much <i>unknown</i> made words impossible to vocalize. Dean was asking him to stay, forever. To be with him. Be a family</p><p>Castiel makes a decision. Also pancakes.</p><p>The final part to archi and my alternate season 8</p><p>Note: <b>This verse reads as one continuous story through this part</b>. Some parts overlap as told from different pov.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choice

The morning came slowly, dimly, as the small window near the ceiling of the room began to glow with the rising sun. Castiel rolled over, squinting at the clock and realizing he'd slept over twelve hours. His stomach grumbled, very empty since he'd really only nibbled at his meals yesterday, and then gone to sleep without anything to eat. He sat up, sore and moving slowly, and padded out to the main area. Unlike the first time he'd come out to say good morning to the brothers, this time the library was empty and the bunker silent. It seemed he was the only one awake.

Yawning, wincing at the stretching and cracking of his cut lip, and bruised face, he wandered around the main area to make his way to the kitchen. As he got closer, he began to hear sounds of life, someone moving around the kitchen, things clanking and cupboards opening.

He rounded the corner, and there was Dean. He hadn't seen him yet, so Castiel took the opportunity to watch, and see the damage he'd done. He was moving carefully, using just his right arm. His face and neck were horribly bruised. He was in the process of slowly whisking a bowl full of some white mix, and a frying pan was hot on the stove.

Castiel shifted, not sure how to announce his presence. That small noise seemed to be enough, and Dean started around, eyes wide and then he growled.

"Dammit, Cas!” He huffed, “You’re still going to pop up out of nowhere, then? Awesome.”

Castiel winced, and shifted again.

"My apologies." He murmured, rubbing at the back of his neck. He hadn't meant to make Dean angry within minutes of seeing him. Dean's face softened soon enough, though, and he sent back to stirring.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked. Castiel plucked at the edge of his shirt, feeling uncomfortable.

"Tired. Hungry." Castiel replied, feeling raw enough to be honest. He met Dean's eyes, for the first time that morning. "And you, are you well?"

Dean chuckled, dropping his gaze. "I'm okay."

Castiel frowned. "You're in pain."

"Yeah, I am, but it'll heal. You want pancakes? It's pretty much all we have. I still didn't get that grocery run made..."

"I've never had them,"

"Try something new every day," Dean muttered. "Come in man, sit. I don't bite."

Castiel, who'd still been standing in the doorway, came further into the kitchen area. It was a large room, more suited for a restaurant than a house, but Dean seemed to be in his element in the spacious kitchen. Stainless steel counters spread along the wall, and the center of the room, and a row of burners and ovens took one wall. There was an ice chest, and a more modern fridge that Dean must have bought. White lights hung from the ceiling conflicting with the morning light form the narrow windows. He sat himself on a stool across the island counter from Dean, and clasped his torn hands together carefully, rubbing along the bruising.

He was feeling ashamed of his behavior yesterday, from the annoyance on his greeting, the fight, the vulnerability of his breakdown literally on top of Dean, and later Dean’s emotions in the infirmary which alarmed and worried him... His own emotions were calmer today, but felt scraped and raw, much like his knuckles.

Dean stood from his place, the mix sufficiently stirred, and went over to the hot pan on the stove, pouring out the batter that formed into circles.  
While they cooked, he leaned on the counter, facing Castiel. His fingers fiddled with the spatula.

"Dean, I want to apologize--"

Dean’s brows pulled in and he began to shake his head. "Come on, Cas, can you just... _not_ this time?” Dean looked down at his hands. "I mean, get it, but we're good. Can we just be good?"

Castiel swallowed, looked again at Dean's black eyes, bruising on his face and neck, and the abrasions on his skin. He rubbed his hands together again, and then nodded. 

"Okay." He whispered. 

Dean turned back to the pancakes, flipping them over. The sizzle of the batter filled the kitchen for a minute, and then Dean put the spatula down, his back to Cas, staring down into the pan.

“Look, I get it. You’ve done a lot of shit that you want to fix. We all have. But you can’t live your life like that. That _guilt_ inside...it’ll eat away at everything until there’s nothing left. You hold on to the guilt, and the _atonement_ , and the _fixing_ too tight, and...it’s just not good, man.” Dean turned around, rubbing the back of his neck. Castiel was sitting very still, but when Dean turned he met his eyes. 

“Life is short- shorter when you do the things we do, and it’s your choice how you wanna spend yours now you’ve got it. But you’ll miss the things that matter if you can’t let go of the crap. Not fix, not apologize for...just _let go_.”

Dean swallowed, bit his lip and breathed deeply before meeting Cas’ gaze with resolve.

“Maybe you’ve already figured out what you wanna do with this life, maybe you don’t know yet... But if you want to spend it here, you’ve got a place.”

Castiel nodded slowly, and something uneasy flitted over Dean’s features.

“But Cas?”

Dean waited for Castiel to look up at him before continuing.

“When I say spend your life here, I mean it - stay here, with us. But not part-time. I mean, think on it - you deserve that...but if you stay...you gotta stay, man. I _need_ you to stay.”

Castiel heard the words, and felt a shaking begin in his stomach. He pushed his fingers hard into the scrapes on his knuckles, absently, the pain grounding him. He didn't know what to say, fear and nerves and just so much _unknown_ made words impossible to vocalize. Dean was asking him to stay, forever. To be with him. Be a family. It was what he wanted, yes. But how could he stay? How could he do what Dean advised and _let go_? How was that even possible?

"Hey," Large rough hands covered his fingers, stopping him from inflicting more pain on himself. "Don't do that, okay?" Dean's voice was gentle, and Castiel looked up to meet his eyes. 

"You don't have to decide anything now. God knows you've gone through a lot lately. You deserve to think on it. Just know it's an option. You're wanted here."

He squeezed the top of his hand, careful not to hurt his injuries, and then turned back to the stove. It was quiet while Dean finished cooking, but it wasn't the tense silence of before. The words had been said, and each was lost in his own thoughts. 

Castiel quite enjoyed the pancakes. Later on that morning, he was still sitting at the island counter in the kitchen, finishing the last of his multiple helpings of breakfast. He finally starting to feel full. Dean had pushed his plate aside a while ago, and they both were sipping hot cups of coffee. Dean was busy teaching him the differences between two film franchises: one called _Star Wars_ and the other called _Star Trek._ From the titles, Castiel thought he’d prefer the one without the word “war” in it, but the descriptions sounded like there was little difference. Space travel, exploration and “fighting the bad guys” to quote Dean. But when he said as much, Dean pouted, and began to re-emphasize the stories and the characters to an amusing degree. 

“Which one do you like better?” Castiel finally asked Dean, but the other man shook his head. 

“Nope, not telling you that until we watch both. You have to make an unbiased opinion.”

Castiel smiled, nodding slightly. “Alright.”

Dean smirked back at him, and forked a piece of Castiel’s pancake, as his own was long cold. As he chewed, Sam and then Charlie entered the room. It was late in the morning, and Castiel realized that was not the norm for either of them. They both looked mussed, and foggy, with drooping eyes, and winces. Charlie had make up smeared around her eyes. 

“Well, good morning!” Dean exclaimed, a little too loudly to be polite. That he’d done it on purpose was obvious when they both cringed a little. 

Charlie blinked up at him and Dean, and her eyes widened. 

“Dean, your face...”

Castiel tensed, eyes dropping to his coffee. Dean however shrugged easily with one shoulder, the one he hadn’t pounded into a visible bruise. 

“Looks worse that it feels. Coffee’s in the pot.”

Sam immediately poured himself and Charlie tall mugs full of the dark liquid, and settled at the counter. They made no move to eat any of the leftover pancakes, looking sickened at the thought. 

As they drank, Dean leaned forward, looking at first Charlie and then Sam in turn. 

“Had a fun night last night, did we?” He smiled widely. Charlie put her head in her hand, and made a brave attempt at a smile, which ended up looking a bit pained. 

Dean’s grin widened, as he turned to Sam. 

“What about you, Sammy? Did you have fun?”

Sam kept his hands on the mug, but lifted just the middle finger of his right hand out towards Dean. Castiel had come to understand that was a rude gesture, but Dean only chuckled. 

“Come on, Sammy? Didn’t find a hot girl last night, and have a little fun?”

“Charlie did.” Sam muttered. Dean raised an eyebrow towards Charlie. 

“Good for you.” Dean congratulated her, holding out a fist which she met with her own.

“Heh, it’s been a stressful couple of weeks. I needed to let loose a little.”

Several minutes passed with no conversation. Dean cleared plates and began rinsing dishes. Sam and Charlie had both become completely absorbed in their coffee, when Dean turned around, looking them both over while fiddling with the handle of his own mug.

“Look, not to spoil your hangovers, but I’ve got a few things I’d like to get out of the way before we all carry on with our day.”

Sam slumped, Charlie’s eyes went wide over her mug and Castiel felt a flare of panic in his gut.

“I want to say I’m sorry - to all of you. There’s been a lot of crap these past few weeks and I put you all through some pretty unfa-”

“Dean, that was hardly your fault,” Castiel interrupted, but Dean raised a hand.

“Just let me finish, Cas.” He swallowed, and Castiel held his gaze. Charlie and Sam were watching as well, and Dean looked down, pressing the tips of  
his fingers into the countertop.

“I wasn’t at my best. And I don’t think that goes for me alone. But it’s blank slates all around as far as I’m concerned. I don’t blame you two for keeping quiet. Cas asked you to, and I can’t fault you for being good friends. I can’t changed what happened...but, from now on -no more secrets, guys.”

He rubbed his nose, his voice roughening a little. 

“Sam, you’re my brother. And we’ve seen a lot over the years, and again and again it hits the fan when we keep things from each other. I know you did the best you could, and I want to thank you for taking care of me.” Sam nodded, his eyes a little shiney. Dean nodded back, gratitude on his face. 

“Charlie, you are a part of this family. You’re like a sister to me, and I want to thank you for taking care of him.” His elbowed nudged Castiel’s arm, and Castiel also looked at Charlie, smiling gratefully. Then Dean glanced sideways, and caught Castiel’s eyes again. 

“Cas, we’ve already talked about this, but I’m just gonna tell you again. You’re family, and you are wanted here...”  
It seemed like a general warmth and affection was settling over the table when Dean cleared his throat one more time. “And, guys, about that whole not telling me shit thing...don’t do it again.”

 

The morning after that passed quietly, contemplatively. After the past weeks, the events of yesterday, and the heavy sleep of last night for the first time really since he’d Fallen, Castiel felt a little dazed. He figured he was still overwhelmed at the changes his life had taken, and still just tired in his soul, even if his body had gotten enough rest. 

Oddly enough, even with all those changes, his past sins and all his mistakes, the people sure to be after him, and the fact that he was now human, and more helpless than he’d ever been....he still felt a small measure of peace. 

Castiel was exploring the main library area, and keeping a surreptitious eye on Dean as well. He was still moving slowly, wincing at too quick movements, and the bruising looked horrific, but he’d denied Castiel’s offer to get him anything. Dean was seated in the library, inspecting a few old magazines for rips and tears, taking notes on the condition and contents of each one. He’d said that he intends on selling them. He just sat, slowly going over the pages and bindings of the vintage magazines, focused on his task. 

Castiel sighed, flexing his fingers, feeling his own wounds stretch and crack across his knuckles. Pain flared, far less than Dean’s must be. The guilt flared as well, for yet again beating Dean to the ground after losing his control. It would not happen again. 

He continued what he’d been doing, wandering slowly from shelf to shelf in the library, eyes flowing from book title to book title, fingers following eyes along the spines. The collection was quite impressive, both from the original Men of Letters’ storerooms and gatherings, and the books that Sam and Dean had found over the years, in Bobby’s stores, or from their father. Everything of importance to Dean and Sam had ended up here. It was quite amazing, that human desire to amass knowledge and memories. 

There were books and scrolls and papyri here in every language and from all ages. Sam, skilled and brilliant as he was, would not be able to translate or organize all this. They’d been living here for months, he understood, and he’d barely scratched the surface of what was here. Castiel almost imagined he could feel the power from these old writings, just waiting to be discovered. He looked at his hand, resting on a old Japanese scroll case. He could read the text across the top, a story about a fisherman who rescued a turtle. He still remembered the languages of the earth, had personal memories through the history of the world. He could help. For the first time since Falling, Castiel began to see a place that he could fit. 

And Dean... He looked over, and as if he felt his gaze, Dean raised his eyes to meet his. His lips flickered upwards slightly, and Castiel answered with a soft smile, and a nod, before dropping his face to the floor. 

Dean wanted him to stay. He’d made it more than clear. He’d asked him straight out for that commitment. Castiel still felt the anxiety that the question had risen, the length and shortness of his mortal life, the uncertainty and anguish of both his past and his future. The lightness behind his shoulders would be eternally painful, and the coldness in his chest where his grace had been was enough to make him shiver. He wasn’t who he used to be. But Dean... he _wanted_ him to stay. _Him_ , he’d said. Not his powers. It was hard to understand, but he couldn’t misunderstand Dean’s meaning. It was the verbal response to his kiss the day he’d sacrificed himself. That was what was filling Castiel with the peace he’d felt. Knowing, that despite everything, Dean had made him a promise. 

He dropped his hand from the bookshelf, and turned back to Dean, felling earnest and unafraid for the first time in a long time. 

“Dean?” He said, and Dean looked up, his pen pausing mid stroke. 

“Yeah, Cas?”

Castiel took a breath. 

“I’d like to stay. Here, with you.”

Dean’s face opened wide, looking pleased, surprised and childlike. He grinned and nodded. 

“Good.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **This chapter marks the end of the original storyline.** Any parts beyond this belong to the _By Grace, We are Saved_ verse, but take place [probably] later and are not fundamental to the original plot.
> 
> Arisprite here! First I want to thank you all for reading this crazy, rambling, hastily written AU. We've both really appreciated your support and excitement!  
> The genesis of this project came when I was walking to work one day, and I had forgotten my music. Thinking being my only entertainment, and the upcoming finale on my mind, I began to work out a scene in my head. When I got home, I told archi (we're roommates, and she IS the Dean to my Cas) Then archi wrote the scene with my dialogue in "Sacrifice" "Tenderness" and "The Way". That was all we meant to do, but as you can see 31 parts later, it expanded into a very therapeutic way to lead the characters into a better place.  
> Also, the fisherman story Castiel reads on the box is from the legend of Urashima Taro.
> 
>  
> 
> archi: This fic was a real labor of love. What Arisprite failed to mention is that the first time she told me her idea i promptly burst into tears. I love the intimacy between these characters and wish that we could see more - and this is what we tried for here.  
> Dean and Castiel have always sort of escaped definition and I hope we allowed them the room to honestly experience themselves and one another in the way that was best - in the ways they seemed to want as we wrote. We did our best to listen to the characters, and I hope you heard and felt and saw them as clearly as we did.  
> Thank you so much for reading (and or participating in meta in the comments :] ) Happy reading!


End file.
